


Short Stack

by d0g-bless (d0gbless)



Series: Black/Bird: Shidge Week 2016 [3]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Library, M/M, Male Pronouns for Pidge | Katie Holt, Shidge Week 2016, Shidge Week 2016: Alternate Universe, Trans Male Pidge | Katie Holt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-22
Updated: 2016-09-22
Packaged: 2018-08-16 18:18:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,166
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8112469
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/d0gbless/pseuds/d0g-bless
Summary: Why the fuck did the university employ him here, the library, of all places?Sure, he liked books. Loved them, in fact. He enjoyed improving the library circulation systems and helping his peers with tech issues.But shelving books? Fuck that.(Shidge Week 2016, Day 3: Alternate Universe.)





	

**Author's Note:**

> Better late than never!
> 
> Here's prompt number 3: Alternate Universe.

For the fifth time in the last sixty seconds, he cursed his short arms. Really, his shortness. Why was he damned to being so short? Damned to being born lacking a few parts? Damn it all. He was sick of being called a “lesbian” simply because he wore flannel shirts and ties. (Never a bowtie. As much as he heard the Doctor Who fans in his class say they were “cool,” they were not.)

Where was he going with this? Oh, right. Why the fuck did the university employ him here, the library, of all places?

Sure, he liked books. Loved them, in fact. Hell, he’d checked out Ray Bradbury’s _The Martian Chronicles_ so many times that Allura sighed and gave it to him.

“Your late fees equal your weekly salary right now. Just take it,” the head librarian had said, shoving the batter book into his tightly bound chest.

He enjoyed improving the library circulation systems and helping his peers with tech issues.

But shelving books? Fuck that. Short Pidge may be; weak, he was not. But he couldn’t exactly carry a ladder or stool during his five-hour long shelving shifts. He wasn’t gifted with the football team’s rippling arm muscles. His arms looked like limp spaghetti noodles.

He’d had to request a stool on every floor. Luckily Allura had been happy to help him with that—too happy, in fact.

But as it turned out, even with the stools, he was too short to reach the top shelf. It took three hardcover copies of Encyclopedia Britannica and the stool.

He would take one giant leap in the style of Neil Armstrong’s moon landing. But the stack of titanic books lacked the moon’s stable surface—and he still had to stand on pointe to reach the highest shelf.

Pidge looked like a drunken ballerina as he stood atop his improvised stepstool. “So close,” he whispered. He felt like if he’d spoken half a decibel louder, his unstable support structure might collapse. Finally, he’d gotten the book to go in its proper spot—only succeeding in knocking others off of it.

* * *

Shiro watched the student librarian—was that what her title was?—struggle to reach the top shelf. He’d been watching her for a while now. Admittedly, she was amusing to watch. Some guys in his fraternity had a betting pool on when she was going to fall. He didn’t get involved with it—it just seemed unnecessarily cruel to that poor girl.

One of his brothers—Keith—had said she’d tried to join their fraternity, claiming she was a “he.” Lance couldn’t believe that guy was a “she.” Hell, he’d even put a bid down for her. (He? Him?) Shiro hadn’t been there to figure out what the hell his brothers were talking about, but it didn’t really matter to him.

None of it was any of his concern. Until he heard books hitting the floor and an “ _Oh, shit!”_

He could stay back and watch her clean up everything.

Or he could be better than that.

Shiro sighed as he got up out of his chair.

* * *

“Of course this would happen to me,” Pidge muttered. “Of course.” He started to jump off of the first Encyclopedia Britannica (this volume contained everything under the letter “C”), but the book slid out from beneath him. He was certain he’d hit the floor, but he found himself blinking owlishly in the arms of a stranger. A very tall, muscular, and handsome stranger at that.

“Are you okay, miss?”

Pidge flinched. “Other than being called ‘miss,’ I’m fine.” He couldn’t help but noticed how his voice squeaked. He hated it when it did that. Why couldn’t it be smooth and lower? More macho? Like the guy who saved him from a potential concussion? “Is there any way you could put me down?”

Shiro did. “I’m sorry—I didn’t mean to misgender you.”

Pidge shrugged and fiddled with his glasses. It was refreshing to meet someone who was aware what misgendering meant—and apologize for it. He wasn’t about to acknowledge the apology. (Although he appreciated it.) It was better just to let things go on without a fuss. “I’m Pidge.”

“Nice to meet you, Pidge. I’m Shiro.” Shiro looked over his shoulder at the mess Pidge had made. “Do you want some help with that?”

“That’s not necessary,” Pidge said as he began restacking the Encyclopedia Britannica onto the stool.

Shiro shook his head and sighed. “You’re going to hurt yourself.”

“What do you suggest I do?” Pidge snapped. “It’s not like I have any other way to reach it.”

A wry smile surfaced on Shiro’s lips. “I have an idea, but only if you’re okay with it.” He whispered into Pidge’s ear, whose eyebrows furrowed deeper with each word.

“Okay, let’s do it.” Pidge grabbed a handful of books. “And go!”

Shiro scooped Pidge up and set him on his broad shoulders—he was lighter than Shiro had anticipated. He gripped Pidge’s thin ankles. His hold was firm, but not too tight. Shiro worried if his grip was too tight, he would break Pidge’s ankle. “Can you reach it?"

“Yup!” Pidge said. “Perfectly. Could you please put me down so I can grab the next stack?”

The two of them kept at it for the rest of Pidge’s shift. They talked about a variety of topics: their classes, interests, and extracurricular activities. As it turned out, they shared more in common than either thought possible. Both were studying astrophysics and engineering—except Pidge was also majoring in robotics. “I’m also on the robotics team—you should join.”

Shiro nodded. “If I get to see you there, I’m all for it.”

“Hey, Shiro, would you ever wanna grab a coffee or something? Just to hang out and stuff.” Pidge felt his face grow warm. Hopefully he wasn’t blushing.

“Sure thing.” Shiro handed Pidge a slip of paper. “It’s my number. Call me anytime.”

Calling made Pidge feel self-conscious about his voice. Depending on a call’s quality, sometimes he heard his voice play back. And it only made him more aware of what he wasn’t. “I prefer texting.”

“Okay, text me anytime,” Shiro amended. “So, coffee at 10 am tomorrow?”

“Yes! We've gt ourselves a date. I mean… I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it’s a date. It’s not a date-date, not unless you’d want it to be. Or what I meant was—“

Shiro laughed. “It's a date. See you round, Pidge."

"See you tomorrow, Shiro!"

He clocked out with what he was sure his roommate Lance would call "the dorkiest smile ever." But Pidge wouldn't let it get to him. Telling Lance about his hot coffee date just might shut that idiot up for once. The look on Lance's face would be priceless.

Getting coffee with Shiro would at least make tomorrow's noon shift more tolerable-- as long as Shiro wouldn't mind playing the role of "human ladder" again.

And Pidge had a feeling he wouldn't mind at all.


End file.
